Starting Points
by Rickashay
Summary: AU It was the beginning, the starting point, for the letters were written. They would never know who he truly was, despite being the boy-who-lived. They never saw him. They could never suspect it. Slightly darker, smarter Harry, Year One
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer I don't own Harry Potter, it is owned by J.K. Rowling. I only have my imagination and dissatisfaction.

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><p>The Beginning<p>

Words seemed so inapt to describe such things…

It felt more like ignorance on the tongue of the wise. It didn't quite make sense, but there is this sense of wisdom that slowly corrupts the mind, for when one chooses to listen to one's own conscience.

Dumbledore should have understood this, should have known to listen. But I suppose no one can listen to what one does not hear, and he does tend to hear only what he wishes. A fault perhaps, but for one so powerful, it seems like it was needed. A chance at the breaking point, they've never looked too far into my eyes to see anything but emerald. They never saw the shadows that glazed my eyes, the hatred, and the rare power hidden underneath those irises. Perhaps, they would have seen red.

Sometimes, in the deepest and perhaps darkest parts of my mind, I remember the feeling of betrayal that stung as sharply as any curse, or any Unforgiveable. But no one minds the horrors that we face. I've promised myself I would make them pay. How? I have no idea! But I will; I don't have the choice not to.

It all started at the small Privet Drive 4, in the little town of Surrey that I realized the potential I had. But I must remind you this: Tears are easily shed when one does not feel the exact emotions of the victim. I pray that I can convey that well enough.

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><p>The moment Harry Potter had awoken that morning, a sense of anticipation tingled down his spiny back. To some they would have seen a severely scrawny child, but the child was actually quite malnourished. Perhaps if they had looked closely enough, or saw what was in front of them, they'd have noticed that this certain ten-year-old boy was unlike any ten-year-old they've met. Although quite regular in appearance, no one could have such darkened, sorrowful eyes. They blinked owlishly at the bright light, scraping away the sleep from his eyes and smiling benignly.<p>

Two days…

The longest he had ever spent in that stupid cupboard.

Two days without the freedom of breathing in air not covered with dust or spider webs. It felt glorious!

Making his way down the hall, he was vaguely aware of the news blaring loudly from the living room and his cousin flushing the toilet; the hum-hum of his aunt as she walked inside the house while holding a stack of mail in her hands, and the grumblings of his uncle as he complained about the world in general. They were all familiar sounds to the young ten-year-old.

Suddenly, his aunt paused, glancing up to meet his rather bright-eyed face. An eyebrow curved and her lips twisted dramatically in a rather ugly fashion. Her long neck arched, looking down at the rather smallish boy.

"Well?" she asked impatiently, tapping her foot.

"Breakfast?" Harry's impossible big emerald eyes lifted to her face, unknowingly looking into her disdained dark eyes.

"Yes, well… can't you make your own?" she sniffed, passing him without another glance before settling beside her husband, who plucked off a piece of bacon from a plate and did not once look up from the newspaper hiding his face.

Dudley, perhaps one of the most irritating human's in all of England, entered from the hallway with a rather gleeful expression at the sight of the food. The flesh clinging to his neck and face quivered disgustingly as he all but waddled toward his chair before greedily serving him a large quantity of food. _Disgusting…_

"Mum, why isn't Harry sitting with us?" Dudley said, managing to spit out pieces of bacon between words, ignoring his mother's vain attempts at wiping the grease from his chin with a napkin.

"Boys that wake up late have to prepare their own breakfast." She replied, once again scanning through the mail.

No one said anything about the fact that Harry had been in the cupboard for two days! Or the fact that he usually was the first to rise and prepare their meals, or the fact that he had been up ready before Dudley was even out of the bathroom. But never mind that, Harry knew that arguing would result in nothing.

With a sigh, he flipped over the egg and smiled at the sizzling noise it emitted. It was broken by a shocked and strangled gasp, which caused the boy to whip around.

"What!" the hoarse cry alerted all three males in the room, and soon all eyes were upon Aunt Petunia. Eyes rolled back as all the blood left her face, leaving it ugly and pale. Her mouth opened in a silent, horrified scream, but what really unnerved him was when the eyes snapped to attention and darted fearfully towards him.

"Pet, what is it?" Uncle Vernon reached across the table and jerked the letter from her. From where Harry stood, two beady eyes could be seen scanning the front of the emerald envelope, mustache bristling agitatedly as he did so. Those shrewd eyes, usually so narrowed and suspicious, widened in shock. Glancing between Petunia and the young nephew who stared curiously with eyes slit in mistrust, Mr. Dursley reddened.

_Perfect, it's my fault!_ The boy thought with a grimace.

"V-Vernon, you…don't honestly believe we have to allow this?" Petunia whispered, horrified.

"O-of course not! Those freaks can't go against the law! And as the guardians, we have every right to say where he will attend school!" face still red and glaring at the mystified children, he sneered nastily while Dudley eyed the envelope with growing interest.

With a cough, Vernon stuffed the letter into his coat pocket and rose from his seat. With a vein pulsing in his forehead, he shuffled away with his briefcase, sparing his family with a rather strangled out, "Going to work!" before walking out the door and slamming it shut.

Immediately, tension eased out of his shoulders and Harry stared at the back of his uncle with a rather sinister smile. He was unaware that Aunt Petunia glanced his way, mouth twisting with disgust before turning back to Dudders' to wipe the bacon sticking to his chin. She did not miss the smile, or really, the rather gleaming light that entered her nephew's emerald eyes.

His size may fool many, but that did not fool her.

He truly was one of them.

A freak…

Not normal…

A wizard.

Just like his mother.

Flipping the egg over, scowling at the sight of the blackened egg, a plot twisted in the back of the mind of the ten-year-old. A plan to see that letter…

Anything that scared Aunt Petunia so much must mean something big is going to happen!

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><p>In a typical day, Harry would not be plotting to steal something from his rather estranged family. Scratch that – since there was never really a bond between them, there could never be an estrangement. Their relationship usually only meant being isolated, ignored, and on the occasion, bullying from his oafish cousin. It was a non-existent relationship, and both parties were satisfied with such.<p>

While Harry was picking weeds from the garden, an old gardeners' hat borrowed from Mrs. Figg atop his head, and sweat dripping down his face, a plan was trying to form.

Goal: The letter

Step one: Distract his uncle. How? Well…Harry wasn't quite sure of that. It would probably just come to him though, most schemes did. Like when he stole Dudley's money from Aunt Marge by making a pie, saying that Aunt Petunia made it especially for her "little Dudleykins"! It was actually for supper that night, but it wasn't like his aunt and uncle would scold Dudley for having a lack of impulse control when he saw the pie, conveniently, cooling off on the table with a plate, tub of whip cream, and a spoon. While he had been stuffing his face with the dessert, Harry had snuck inside his room. Predictably, his cousin had no qualms of keeping his possessions or money hidden. Instead there was a pile of cash sitting on top of his dresser. He did not even miss the twenty-pound note!

His uncle probably wouldn't be distracted by pie…or food for that matter, which left one option…his uncle's obsession.

The telly…

It could be really easy actually. Dudley had no idea how to fix the telly when something went wrong, and usually called his mother in just to retrieve the remote; Petunia didn't exactly have a knack with electronics, so there was little to no possibility that she could even manage to fix it before his uncle arrived from work. So that meant he would need to find the right moment to not _permanently_ ruin the telly, probably between the time Dudley was bullying some kids in the park and when his aunt made her annual "rounds" peeking over the fences at their neighbors.

It could be very simple…if he managed it well.

A soft hoot and a flutter of wings snapped the young gardener's attention to a barn owl that had taken pleasure in stalking him since he had walked outside. Staring unblinking at the boy its' head ducked slightly, hooting and puffing up indignantly.

"What's wrong?" he asked, momentarily forgetting that _normal_ people did not speak to animals, much less owls or…snakes.

Staring into the yellow, peeved eyes of the owl, it shook itself at him, giving out a rather angry squawk.

"Fine." Harry muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. Picking up the pail of weeds he had pulled from the garden, his eyes narrowed as he heard the soft pit pattering of his aunt's feet making their way out of the front door and onto the sidewalk. With a sharp turn, it was unmistakable where she was headed; their neighbors, meaning, her annual spying.

_Perfect…_the thought purred. As such, when one sees an opportunity, one must seize it.

With a rather small, conniving smile, he moved silently across the grass, head turning left and right. Having not seen his aunt in sight, his tense thin shoulders lowered themselves, relieved.

Gripping the doorknob tightly, he felt it click underneath his hands before pulling it away. The deafening _creak_ of the hinges paused him, breathing labored as he stole a quick glance around. Abandoning previous caution he slipped inside, willing himself not to make a noise as he scuttled across the foyer and to the living room. Apparently Dudley had already left for the playground, evident by the lack of presence on the couch. With a small grin, he moved swiftly towards his uncle's domain, the garage, where the tools and other meaningless stuff were held. On top of a box of tools, stood the one thing that would enable him to claim victory of his slothful relatives: large tweezers and a screwdriver.

Now to begin step two: temporarily break the telly.

_Easy enough…_Harry thought with just the slightest of smirk

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><p>Definitely not!<p>

Staring down at the collection of wires that had burst forth after taking off the back of the telly, it all seemed much more…difficult than what he anticipated.

_Never underestimate something being simple…ever…_He thought with a sigh while grabbing the tweezers in his overly large leather gloves. _Best not get electrocuted_…was the grim thought. Taking a deep, steadying breath he stared at the mass of colored cords. _Fine…the blue one. It isn't as if they can't afford to get a new telly if I break this one. _Tightening the grip on the tweezers, he placed its snout on a random blue wire. Adjusting his grip, and sucking in a nervous breath, he felt more than saw the wire snap in half. Stroking his fingers through his hair, he was only dimly amused to note the sweat clinging to his fingers.

_Hopefully by the time I can read the letter, my uncle won't notice that it was purposefully cut. _Heaving a heavy sigh, he began screwing on the backend of the telly again.

Step three: Wait for his uncle's return and snatch the letter from his pocket. After all, patience was a virtue and he had plenty of experience in that. Especially if it meant that he had a goal in mind.

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><p>If there was one thing that his uncle hated more than Harry, it was having a rough day at work. When Harry noticed Vernon lumbering out of his car in a visible rage, muttering to himself, his task seemed more difficult.<p>

Carelessly throwing the suit jacket in a kitchen chair, he stomped his way to the living room. "Pet, you wouldn't believe what happened today! Mr.-." Uncle Vernon paused, seeing the red-faced, tantrum building, and fist-clenching son while his wife vainly tried to soothe him with promises of buying a new telly soon. For a moment, mustache bristling he simply stood there. If he had turned around, he'd have noticed a skinny child reaching inside the coat pocket of his jacket.

"It's all right Dudley, see, your father's home and I'm sure he'll be able to fix it." She murmured softly, shooting Vernon a rather desperate look.

"Now, now, my boy, I'm sure we can do something about this." He muttered, all thoughts of work chased away by the big, fat tears streaming down his son's face

In the hallway, Harry grinned, clutching a rather wrinkled letter.

His plan worked. As he knew it would.

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><p>AN Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. I have to thank my brother for going over this chapter with me and correcting any mistakes I had. So if you see any, please tell me write away! Also constructive criticism is always welcomed. If any of you are wondering, yes, hopefully I'll continue past the first year. Will this be different from canon? Yes, I hope to add a few twists. Anyway, thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer I don't own Harry Potter. All I own is my imagination and my dissatisfaction

Chapter 2

It was my fault…

The thought continues to plague me…sometimes they are the reason for the screams ringing constantly in my head. I still remember the happiness I felt when I received that letter. The moment I held that piece of parchment in my hands, knowing, just _knowing _the truth in those few words.

I was a wizard.

It explained a lot, something inside me that had ripped open and clawed its way out. I knew…

I was nothing special, perhaps it was ingrained in my head. I was nothing special, and yet…there was a part of me that had hoped. If I had known that I was entering a world of manipulation, of corrupt government, and a world full of "evil" wizards plotting to take over the world, perhaps I would have squashed that hope as brutally as a bug.

No, instead…I let myself hope.

What a waste.

But no, the brief moment of happiness would have to last me forever. Even through some of my ugly moments, the thought of Hogwarts kept me _bound_.

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><p>The strong tang of hope lingered on Harry's tongue, even if he just stood there gazing at the letter resting on his cot. It was an odd thought, a wizard, or really, that magic existed. It also explained many things that had happened, the blue wig, some of the strangeness when Dudley was bullying, the snake cage, glass disappearing, talking to snakes, and let's not forget the roof "incident", which was better being shoved in the back of the Dursleys' heads. But it also gave Harry a sense of foreboding too; the Durlseys' already had made up their mind, and it seemed that they did not wish him to attend this "school".<p>

It also meant that he would have to convince them to let him go, and he was sure that Aunt Petunia would be the staunchest opponent. Vernon was like putty in Petunia's hand; if she was convinced, Vernon easily followed. But it also meant that he'd need to bargain with them to get his way, and he had very little to bargain with. A simple "please" and a sweet smile might give him some sympathy from Vernon but Petunia was "magical-phobic", so any real chance would have to be something big enough to convince them. Other options were blackmail, stubbornness, and possibly threatening. He thought those weren't too beneath him.

Sighing softly he plopped down on his bed, eyes squeezing closed.

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><p>It was not the first time that the Dursleys' awoke to the noise of sizzling bacon and crackling eggs, the smell wafting throughout the house. It was a common occurrence for young Harry to fix breakfast should he be the first to awaken, and it was also a way to make both adults much happier to indulge him. It definitely brought out Vernon's nicer side and his Aunt always seemed just a smidge happier to gossip about what the neighbors were doing while Vernon sipped his coffee than grumbling about burning bacon and the soggy eggs.<p>

So when all three Dursleys' appeared dressed in pajamas, yawning, and blinking blearily at him, Harry was not at all surprised as they plunked down at the table. Moving quickly, he brought a cup of smoldering coffee to his uncle while fetching the newspaper for his aunt. Oddly enough, it was always Petunia that read the newspaper first. Just another quirk in the Dursley home that made little to no sense.

Scrambling the eggs on a plate, he placed them carefully in the middle of the table right beside the greasy bacon. With a rather strained, nervous smile, he took his place. Watching the Dursleys' serve themselves was always like watching a show exhibiting the more beastly nature of animals, gorging down their food without even waiting to taste it, or his Aunt Petunia who plucked and picked at hers like a bird.

"Uncle Vernon…?" three pairs of eyes narrowed in on the small boy. Jutting out his chin determinedly, he gripped the emerald envelope hidden in his pocket. "Sir, I-I know what Hogwarts is."

Shocked silence.

And then a vicious snarl: "Boy, don't say that name in my house!" Petunia rose from her seat, mouth twisting sourly while her neck arched disapprovingly, hands on her hips and eyes flashing. "It is not a normal place and since we have taken you in for Pete's sake; you can at least do us the favor by trying to fit in as well as you can! You are not to be going, you are to be _normal_ as best as you possibly can!"

Raising his eyes to his aunt's face, he said without once flinching. "I doubt they'll allow you to do that." Those words rippled through the air, tension tightening his shoulder blades though he would not lower his eyes from her face. "They would not have sent me this letter if they hadn't thought I'd be going, or eligible for going, it's the least I can do to reply to them." _And hopefully someone from that school with swing by and try to convince my relatives to let me go._

Huffing irritably, Petunia plopped herself back into her seat. "Do not even bother! I will have no unnaturalness in this house and how would you possibly be able to decline?" Folding her hands in her lap, mouth still twisted in that bitter-way, she said. "If we leave it alone, they won't bother us." Two simple words remained unspoken, _we hope._

Vernon thoughtfully sipped his coffee, forehead wrinkled in thought. "How'd you think to answer them?" the question was spoken thoughtfully, almost without thinking.

Straightening in his seat, Harry smiled slightly. "Well…there is an owl that's camping out in our trees. I think he's the one that brought the letter here and I doubt he'll leave without being prompted by his owner or by getting an answering letter. Isn't that how mail-doves work?"

His uncle's mustache twitched, a signal Harry took for victory. With that, blocking out the tirade of Petunia as she sputtered in shock that "an _owl_ was in _our_ trees where _the neighbors_ could see!" Harry grinned while patting reassuringly at the emerald letter in his pocket.

They did not find out until Mr. Dursley was leaving for work that three more had arrived, along with three more owls.

Petunia had a fit but Harry smiled.

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><p>The moment the door slammed closed and Aunt Petunia's click-clicking feet were hurrying down the sidewalk to go gossip with Mrs. something of Number 6. Apparently now that he knew the truth, he was no longer safe to associate with Dudley but it was rather gratifying that he was allowed to stay inside to compose his letter. The acceptance letter was written in a way that was both formal and to the point.<p>

And such, it was in this way that he composed his letter:

_Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall_

_Since your letter arrived, I am finding myself very confused and rather liking this to a joke. You see I highly doubt anything like magic could, in fact, exist. I cannot deny that it does make some sort of twisted sense. If you please, could you stop by and explain things to my relatives and I? I live at Surrey, England, Privet Drive Number Four._

_Yours truly,_

_Harry James Potter,_

_P.S. If this is a mistake, which I doubt considering my relative's reactions, how am I meant to pay for this school? We are hardly rich and boarding school seems out of our budget._

Despite the fact that it was short, most eleven year old boys during that time had little need or knowledge in letter writing, and so it was a rather drab sounding letter. He sounded so…formal…and…boring.

Now, for the more difficult part: How could he possibly figure out how to give it to the owl? Did you call it? Just give the letter to it? Or was there some magical _thingy_ that he would need?

Surprisingly, the moment he walked down the sidewalk leading to his house and towards the tree housing four owls, they greeted him with hoots and tittering before swooping down. Barn owls, flying overhead, Harry did what any sensible person would do when faced with something flying over his head. He ducked with a rather girlish shriek. Of course, owls did not seem to know that they could frighten the living daylights out of someone, so they kept swooping and pecking at the letter clenched tightly in his hand. Lying curled up into a protective ball on the lawn of Number Four, it would have been quite a sight to see when four large birds were hovering over the cowering figure.

"Get off! Get off! Get off!" Shooing angrily, while without once looking at them, he was pleasantly surprised when they hopped away, squawking angrily and huffing. With great trepidation, he raised his eyes to the unblinking yellowish eyes belonging to one of the owls. It huffed, its gaze darting towards the letter clasped tightly in his hand. "Well, if you had just waited perhaps I would have given it to you!" was the retort.

Predictably, the owls were not quite so pleased with this set of tone.

Daringly, it lunged forward, beak snapping for the letter. Snatching it up, with a flutter of wings it flew upwards with a swoop. Three other identically birds soon followed while Harry lay on the ground picking feathers from his hair, breathing labored.

"Honestly, sending owls to houses with letters, what type of nutty people do that!" Stomping angrily inside, he had no idea that one barn owl would arrive at Hogwarts hours later safely tucked inside its nest, waiting for the breakfast to be served and bear news of the Boy-Who-Lived.

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><p>It was rather gratifying thinking that there was a rather likely chance that he'd be spared going to Stonewell, where kids' heads were dunked in the toilet and bullies ran rampant. He had enough bullying living with Dudley and he wouldn't want one bigger and smarter one picking on him. It was bad enough having the little pea-sized brain cousin, who could easily be outrun if Dudley didn't get his lackeys to help, but having someone that he stood no chance against? No thank you!<p>

The mere thought of magic brought an uncomfortable awareness to him, the feeling of skin prickling and hairs standing on end. It was this…unnatural feeling of truth…magic did exist!

After an odd confrontation between Uncle Vernon and him, which resorted in a stumbling mass of… "Don't you think you're too old to live in a cupboard?" and, "those people wouldn't…" followed by a shudder, "Spying on decent folk!", then with a "Dropped him off at the doorstep with a letter, what type of people do that? Freaks the lot of them!" Suddenly realization came over his face and with a stutter of, "You're a growing boy and you need your space! Dudley's second bedroom is perfectly fine for you to live in!" Perhaps the oddest part was the muttering but considering the past few days…Uncle Vernon could be excused for being a bit mental at the moment.

Harry was perfectly aware that his uncle feared the wizards' reaction for the rather neglectful upbringing he had. Far from physical abuse, it was not as if the Dursleys' really cared what had happened to him, merely that he was a model citizen and that they wouldn't ever be bothered with the cops or unprecedented gossip about him. Of course, he was a bit of a gossip topic himself. Having heard no history of before he lived there, it had caused wild speculation. Was he really related to the Dursleys'? He certainly didn't look like them, what with his scrawniness and the rather crazed hair-do that never changed, even his eerie green eyes were said to be rather…_unique._ If it weren't for the old neighbors that had lived there when Petunia's parents did, most would think that he was from an entirely different family! For what it was worth however, the late Mr. Evans did have some of the same look as him, green eyes, short, but with a rather charming smile.

Not that that would stop the rumors! Goodness no! In fact, having never heard of this mysterious nephew that had only appeared ten years ago, it was widely based that he was really Petunia's son who had an illicit affair with another man, who, in turn, dropped of his rather unwanted son with the mother that had abandoned them both. Early on, Harry knew never to trust rumors. They were nothing but rubbish.

Haling the small amount of belongings to the smallest bedroom of Number Four, Privet Drive, it was rather disappointing that it only took one trip to have everything in order. Petunia seemed especially exasperated, especially considering the tantrum Dudley had thrown. But in the end, it would be a small price to pay should neighbors or wizards alike found out where they had been keeping him.

"Thank you, Uncle Vernon." Harry intoned as he surveyed his new room, brow furrowed slightly.

"No reason for thanks, Harry." was the rather disconcerting response. Surprising, it was the kindly gesture of removing the broken toys from the room that had made Harry thank him, when really, this room should have been his from the beginning. Honestly, putting a child in a cupboard! And they thought wizards were freaks for using magic!

With a pat on the head, Mr. Dursley wedged himself out of the door, humming cheerfully above the screams of Dudley, yelling, "BUT IT'S MY room! HE can't have it!"

Plopping against the bed, he was rather dissatisfied that the springs creaked and smelled of mildew. Across from him was the old wardrobe that had been hidden away in the attic, which was the only unbroken thing in the room. The only other piece of furniture was the old wobbly desk sitting in the corner. There wasn't even a chair to go with it. It all seemed rather gloomy…

Pulling out his small notebook, he quickly penned.

Goal 2: Gain acceptance from Hogwarts.

Step 1: Confrontation at breakfast, successful.

Step 2: Write/Send the letter. How do you give a letter to an owl? (Successful)

Step 3: Dudley's second bedroom. (Surprise gift from Dursleys')

Step 4: Meet the Deputy Headmistress. (Waiting)

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><p>Goal 3: find new furniture. (Waiting)<p>

Step 1: Convince Uncle Vernon to give money for school and supplies. (Plotting)

Sighing softly, Harry wiped the bead of sweat from his brow. So many things to do with so little time left.

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><p>AN Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the second chapter. GOSH, I didn't realize that I was taking so long to update! Anyway, I'm glad I got to it. Hopefully the next chapter will be a bit longer. Thank you so much for reading and can you guess which House I have in mind for Harry? One thing though, this isn't going to be a super-powerful-Harry, at least, I hope not. I don't want this to be too cliche. Another thing, I hope you guys are okay with how I am writing the Dursley family. I didn't want the abuse they showed Harry too severe, but you can obviously see that they aren't that mean to him. Thank you so much to everyone that read this chapter and the last. ^_^


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